


I’ll be with you right here, always

by Waitingontatennant



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Dreaming, F/M, Flashbacks
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-02-27
Updated: 2014-03-07
Packaged: 2018-01-14 00:27:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1245868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Waitingontatennant/pseuds/Waitingontatennant
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>'Sometime ago laying in their bed watching Molly deep in sleep. With the gentlest of smiles on her face and the moonlight illuminating half of her frame, he decided. If nothing else he would protect her, keep her, love her. </p>
<p>And oh how he failed.'</p>
<p>Molly Hooper had become a life source to Sherlock Holmes. The one he truly gave himself too. He swore to protect her. Keep her safe, alive. </p>
<p>Now Molly Hooper is lying in a hospital bed fighting for her life and he has failed. </p>
<p>The only way Sherlock can cope is to think back to his memories of his Molly</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Death had never scared Sherlock. Even as a child. Seeing his elderly relatives depart from the world never rose any feelings of sadness or loss within him. More curiosity.

Memories of sitting through funeral services as a small boy, simply observing people around him. The way that people seemed so affected by the death of a person they saw barely twice a year. The muffled cries of so many. Then of course those people who merely pretended to feel upset. One particular incident that aroused real amusement in Sherlock, was viewing a rather elderly woman proceed to gently pat a handkerchief concealing raw onion under her eyes in an attempt to mimic the effects of grief. He also remembers the strange looks his laughter awarded him, _grief_ they blamed it on.

_Why did they care?_

Death was inevitable. It was unavoidable.

_The minute we are born we begin to die._

But then of course the lives of something he truly cared about had never been at risk.

The closet thing he had ever felt to grief was the death of his beloved dog Redbeard. An even the emotions he felt as a result of that could be classes as stunted.

Obviously he did feel regret at unnecessary lives being wasted. He wasn’t a monster. That was one of the reasons he first began being a consultant detective; all the thrill of discovery was there that that he could get from being a scientist, but with the added bonus of actually helping people.

_He was on the side of the angels._

The addition of friends in his life completely changed this. Never before had he felt such blind panic when the lives of the few he held dear were at risk. So freely would he give up his life to preserve theirs.

Initially Molly Hooper’s life never seemed to have the fragility to it that others around him had. John was always at risk. The nature of their job meant so. Countless times had John and he pulled the other from risk. Molly however become the source of Sherlock’s strength, the person who saved him from himself, the voice in his head that drove him from the depths. The thought of her being fragile seemed to be ridiculous. She was the strongest person he’d ever met.

Eventually however the closer he got to her, the more he kept her so incredibly close to his heart the more his own fears of her loss crept into his mind. These fears usually focused on her realising how utterly inadequate he was for her, her falling out of love with him, finding someone knew; or him finally pushing her away. The idea of her death had sneaked in amongst these fears, although he never dwelled on them because _oh God_ how they _hurt._

Sometime ago laying in their bed watching Molly deep in sleep. With the gentlest of smiles on her face and the moonlight illuminating half of her frame, he decided. If nothing else he would protect her, keep her, love her.

_And oh how he failed._


	2. Their first encounter

Sherlock often broke into the lab at St Bart’s. It was usually the only way he could gain access to any of the equipment he needed. He couldn’t understand why the pathologist insisted on being so uncooperative, after all he was working on police business, well sort of.

He resorted to braking in after numerous heated conversations on how he wasn’t ‘authorised’ to use the lab unless he was accompanied by a police officer or giving permission to do so, providing he had proof of course.

_How unreasonable._

No, he found this arrangement worked far better.

Well until he got caught that is. Which according to the closing of the heavy wooden lab door and a sharp gasp it seemed he had been.

“Look Margret, I really don’t have time for- oh, hello.”

“Em… Hi. I’m not Helen if that’s who you mean.”

“Evidently.” A small petite woman appeared struck in the door way. Curiosity etched on her face. Late twenties, brown hair, kind eyes. Old enough to be a junior pathologist, more likely to be a lab assistant.

“Who, who are you?”

“Oh I’m a friend of Margret-“

“Helen.”

“Yes, whatever. She lets me use her lab from time to time when I’m working on cases.” Half true.

“Oh so you're police then?” The woman seemed intrigued, half smirking as she stepped closer.

“Mmm, sort of.” He’d now focused his gaze back to his microscope and his slides of flower roots.

“Sort of police?”

“Could you bring me those three slides? Consultant detective, only one in the world. Invented it” A smug smile erupted on his face “Sherlock Ho”

“Holmes, yes I know. I’m under strict instructions not to let you anywhere near this lab.” Her smirk had now formed into a nervous smile as she saw the man in front of her become clearly annoyed.

“Oh for God sake! That woman!”

“Apparently a few, _body parts_ have been going missing.” She let out a slight laugh as she said this, realising how ridiculous that sounded.

“A few necessary resources may have been harvested in order to gather data, yes. If you’re going to call the police let me save you the time I’ve got them on speed dial-“

“Oh no!” Sherlock seemed confused by this declaration, enough to make his pause for a second taking extra moments to deduce her. Cat lover indicated by the specks of hair around the hem of her dark trousers- too thin to be dogs. Suffers from nerves according to the state of her nails, her hands also show signs of pre-longed exposure to some irritant- probably cleaning fluids. Non-smoker. Occasional drinker. Kind smile. _But who is she?_

 _“_ I’m sorry I didn’t catch your name?”

“Oh Molly Hooper, lead pathologist. Just took over Helen actually. Early retirement, talked about moving somewhere close to the sea. Fresh start and all that. She wasn’t the same since her marriage broke down. Sorry I’m rambling. Don’t know why I’m doing this. Em.”

Apparently her nervous appeared in more forms other than mere nail biting.

“Horrendous porn addict, I did try to warn her. That sort of thing never goes down well… Pleased to meet you _Molly Hooper.”_

 


	3. It’s not a weakness to love, Sherlock.

He hadn’t a clue how he was going to cope with this. The sociopath. The _machine_ he once called him. None of them accurately described Sherlock, the only word that seemed to fit perfectly was _human_. More human than anyone else he had ever met, he’s no God or hero just simply the proof of what is capable in us all. The problem with Sherlock is not that he doesn't feel, but that he feels too much, he couldn't handle it. Sherlock had always found it hard to control his emotions, that loss of control nearly drove him to the brink of destruction, he needed to escape it he needed to occupy his mind, attempt to stop the never ending activity. He _craved_ silence. Drugs worked for a little while but the high always ended and the demand always increased. Then came the cases and what sweet relief they brought. Sherlock still had the ability to function, his mind wasn’t transported into a different reality as it had been with the drugs, he still had all his brilliance intact but with the distraction he so ruthlessly desired. Then became his biggest discovery of all- friends. The complexity of the human mind never ceased to amaze Sherlock. Being around people that he liked, people that he enjoyed gave him a whole new perspective. He no longer wanted to escape the confines of his mind but revel in the calmness that washed over it in the presence of the few he held dear.

Once Sherlock loves you, by God he loves you hard. The people who managed to cross that line, gain his trust had his loyalty for a lifetime; John knew that better than anybody. Sherlock would go to stupid selfless lengths to protect those around him, as if it was his life’s calling to be their defender. So John was aware of just how much this would affect him.  He would view it as his failing and that couldn’t be further from the truth. Add into the mixture that the person lying unconscious, wired up to several machines, suffering from countless injuries was Molly, well that just exacerbated the situation to colossal heights.  People often put the credit for taming Sherlock onto John but he knew that wasn’t true, a certain Molly Hooper had put in the ground work. Irene may be the woman who beat Sherlock Holmes but Mousey Molly was the one who made him apologise, and anyone who knew Sherlock also knew how high of an achievement that was. 

The man that John saw before him was a shadow of his former self. _Ah how the mighty fall._ Sat outside the door of room 9 was Sherlock Holmes, one elbow resting on his knee which intern was supporting the weight of his head. He was distinctly unlike Sherlock in the fact that he was asleep “Sherlock?”

John was now crouching beside his best friend with one hand affectionately placed on the others right shoulder, gently attempting to wake him from his slumber “ _Sherlock”_ more assertion had crept into his voice. Any personal feelings of worry or pain where now placed aside. He would be strong for his friend as he had been for him so many times before.

John watched on as the first few seconds of Sherlock’s consciousness was free of any memories, any feelings and how it was all ripped away from him with fury. The dawning of where he was why he was there brought back with it all the pain. John now regained his standing position in an attempt to hide the worry etched on his face “They’ll be charging you rent soon”

“What day is it?” his voice was weak.

“Mate, when you have to ask that it’s time to go home, catch up on rest. When was the last time you eat?”

“I don’t eat when I'm on a case” He was now intentionally avoiding eye contact choosing rather to stare directly forward to the plain white painted walls.

“Sherlock. The case is over. We’ve got him, Mol-“

“The case is not over till she has woken up” His voice had now lost all its fragility, it was now stern. Apparently it had become too hard to hear Molly’s name spoken, the utmost delicacy was demanded from John.

“How’s she doing?” he was now sat beside Sherlock, mirroring his position.

“I-I don’t know I can’t go inside. It’s too hard. To see her like that it’s-“

“I know mate, I know” John understood how hard it was for Sherlock to declare his feelings. The enemy of sentiment himself.

“I can’t leave her either. I’ve become redundant. “His voice broke on the last word.

“You’re not failing her you know, if you go home. Honestly, you could do with a shower, you stink” He broke into a nervous laughter, when he saw that his smile wasn't reciprocated he continued “She won’t be alone. If that’s what you’re worried about. I’ll stay here for as long as you need me to. Then there’s Mary, and Greg, even Mrs. Hudson! We can take it in turns, we’re all here for her. And you.”

“Maybe if I had just-“

“No, no don’t you dare. Don’t you blame this on yourself!”

“But that’s precisely it John!” he now met his friends gaze for the first time “Don’t you see, I made her vulnerable by simply being in her life. If I was strong enough and didn’t succumb to my feelings for her maybe this would never have happened.”

“It’s not a weakness to love, Sherlock. And I don’t for one second believe you think all that ‘ _sentiment is a defect’_ bullshit! I’ve never known you to be a better man than since you’ve loved and have  _been_ loved by Molly. Yeah maybe it hurts, it’s difficult but when you find the right person by God it’s worth it! Tell me that for one second you regret Molly?”

“I can’t.”

“Then you fight for her! Don’t destroy this with your own toxic thoughts. Be strong for her Sherlock, she’s gonna need it when she wakes up.”

After a hesitation Sherlock stood. His expression was now more familiar to the one usually found on his face. He was now composed, with newfound determination in his eyes that now lay on John “Thank you.”

His gaze then moved to the door window and onto Molly. After a small pause, an intake of breathe and the closure of his eyes his made his way down the corridor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the kudos'!


End file.
